Soulmarks and Skidmarks
by FallingNarwhals
Summary: Keith didn't want much. A steady job, a place to call home, and maybe figure out the soulmark on his ankle that kept him emotionally tied to a stranger. Hunk is fresh off of a bigoted and terror ridden Earth all but clutching his degree by his fingertips, and decides that the small outpost town is perfect to live. Heith, soulmate au where you share emotions through a shared mark.
1. Chapter 1

His soulmark was throbbing again. Waves of panic coursed through his veins, and he set down the wrench and rolled over, clutching his ankle and concentrating on sending calming thoughts back.

His soulmate was even more panicky than normal nowadays. Keith didn't mind because he was cool headed and able to calm them down, but he was worried. Very worried. They've had episodes of anxiety in the past, mostly when they were teenagers, but it's been a few years.

Another lurch of anxiety. Keith swallowed, the desert sun causing sweat to roll down his back under his tank top. He touched the small yellow mark on his ankle again, trusting in that article he read a while back that touching gives a better connection, and focused on his memory of flying, the feeling of wind ripping through his hair and happiness.

Then, twisting his leg, awkwardly kissing the mark, hitting his head on the metal hull. Kissing the mark normally sent feather-light feelings and relaxed his soulmate, and it seemed to work now. The emotions stopped pushing at his mind, settling into a faint rhythm with Keith's reassurance.

The soulmark twisted into a circle and exploded in a faint yellow fireworks before forming back into a star. He smiled at the little display, wiping the dusty grime off of his ankle and went back to work.

He had barely just untwisted the faulty valve when he felt strangely happy, feathery wisps of love coursing through his bloodstream. His arms instinctively curled around his upper body, before shaking himself out of it. He smiled as he went back to work.

Then concentrating on the tasks on hand. He had gotten the job as a mechanic in a small town only a few months ago, and although the boss seemed to have a soft spot for him, he didn't want to disappoint by playing touchy-feely with his soulmate. His's boss's mark was a curled viper around their neck, that hissed and bit and snapped at anyone that dared to backtalk them, staring whenever Sefram's back was turned.

Mx. Sefram themselves weren't that scary, a skinny person with a small unimposing frame, but their soulmate trained and raised snakes, hence the soulmark. Early in his employment, Keith had walked into the break room to see Sefram bench press one of his beefy co-workers, and promised himself never ever to get on their bad side.

Keith pushed himself out under the vehicle, throwing the valve in the spare parts box and grabbing a new one. Replacing valves and wiring in the engines were easy money, but if you didn't have the balls to stand the heat and sun then you couldn't get paid.

Keith liked the heat. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the underside of his tank top, before getting back under the engine.

The socket was dirtied with grease and too slick to make a decent seal, which is what probably caused the breakage in the first place. Keith wrapped his bandana around his hand before sticking his hand back up there, twisting his wrist and clearing all the grime he could.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he grunted. Only ten minutes left on his shift. He wished the boss would let him take double shifts, but they were a huge believer in hydrate or diedrate, making all of his coworkers work only six hour shifts before sending them home.

It was good money, though. Nearly fifty Rubles per vehicle he fixed up.

He screwed the valve into place before twisting the opposite direction, covering the pumps in lubricant. Then shoving himself out under the engine, unclamped it from the pad, and swung his body over the seat, revving the engine.

The ion engine purred to life, quieter than a mouse. He smiled to himself and began clearing the outer shell of dust.

He lost himself in thought, mechanically working away at the grime that caked the pedals and the boosters whilst going over his daily list of chores, trying to soothe the almost hardwired urge to run, find a new place to hide-

"Kogane, your shift was done nearly ten minutes ago." Keith froze in his polishing, before turning around and looking slightly downward at a smirking Sefram.

"Sorry, sir ma'am. I lost track of time." Keith apologized, wringing his hands behind his back.

They winked. "It's alright. Just take some juice from the break room before you go. How many bikes did you fix up today?" Sefram propped an elbow up on the crates of spare parts, sending Keith a sharp toothed smile.

Keith gestured over to the other two bikes leaning against the poles. "The 240x and the 780. Just finished up this one too. All of 'em purr like kittens, sir ma'am."

Sefram nodded. Their soulmarked snake grinned cartoonishly. "Good. Now get outta my yard before you turn int'a one of 'em dehydrated fruit pops."

"Yes sir ma'am!" Keith threw his bandana in the biowaste, reminding himself to pick it up tomorrow once it was cleaned of excessive radiation.

"Oh, sir ma'am!" Keith suddenly remembered that he had to ask them something before he went home. "Can I take my toolbox with me? I'll return it tomorrow. My 400 broke down yesterday."

Sefram nodded. "Yeah. But take a bottle of juice with you."

"Thank y'all!"

Keith grabbed his toolbox out of the shelf, tucking the loose pair of pliers back inside before he walked to the front room to clock out.

The front room was a combination of an office, a break room, and a pool table for some unknown reason. The table had no balls, no cues, an interesting stain right in the center and a metal pole holding up a side with a missing leg. When questioned, Sefram had waved it off. Keith learned not to question it.

He had just opened the door to the fridge when he heard someone clear their throat, startling the shit outta him. He whipped around, clutching his preferred apple juice to use as a weapon, hand on his side bag.

Then he relaxed his arm. In one of the worn out armchairs was one of the most handsome people Keith had ever seen. Clean shaven with a headband pulling dark hair away from their face, a crisp white shirt neatly buttoned up to their neck, their dark eyes analyzed Keith warily before they spoke. "Are you Mx. Sefram?"

"Nah. They're outside shoving water down my coworker's throats." Keith replied. "Oh! Are you here for the job interview?"

He had heard via gossip from Shirogane and Allura that Sefram had wanted to interview another kid, someone good with their hands and this one apparently has a scholarship on Earth. Keith had no idea how they ended up out here but he didn't mind. According to Allura the guy was born on Mars, and had no trace of terrarian in him.

"Yeah," The person smiled. Keith's heartbeat picked up.

"They'll be inside in a few minutes. What's your name?" Keith turned and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Hunk. He/His." He replied.

"Keith, he/his as well. Catch." Keith tossed the juice box to Hunk, who caught it without flinching. "A good way to get on Sefram's good side is drink a lot of fluids in front of them. They think we'll die if we don't have a sip of water every five minutes."

"Thanks, man." Hunk said. His fingers tapped nervously on the side of the armchair, and he sat straight backed and stiff.

"And don't worry, Sefram seems scary but they'll love you. You got your degree from Earth?"

Hunk shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't see why that's impressive. Good skill doesn't rely on where you came from."

"Ooh, I like that," Keith snapped his fingers. "Say something like that if Sefram asks you. They never got a degree and they're the best in a thousand kilometers."

"Oh! Thank you!"

"Anytime, dude." Keith walked over to the exit and placed his hand on the doorknob. "And good luck on that interview!"

As he stepped outside, he felt a flutter of content though his soulmark. Like something just happened in the universe, the planets shifting just right or something, and all was perfect.

Maybe something weird in that juice Sefram stocked the fridge with.

That's more logical.

* * *

 **updates sundays.**


	2. Chapter 2

His bike was beautiful. Keith had built her from scratch from a wrecked Yohanda 400x and replaced the internal hull with a two-ion powered engine, reworked the hardware, and had Pidge help him with the hologram display so it showed exactly how fast he was going down to the millimeters. It could hardly be called a bike, especially one as daft as a 400, but the name stuck.

And damn, she was fast.

Although his job at the repair shop got him by just fine, he truly loved racing to get extra cash. The races in the desert were fast paced and rough, more than often enough sending racers to the hospital (or to the referee's house) and their wrecked bikes into Sefram's workshop the next day.

He finds it ironic. Lance finds it hilarious. Sefram thinks he's insane.

Keith just loves the adrenaline high. And the emotions it sends to his soulmate, the happiness and freedom and hopefully confidence.

But mostly the adrenaline high.

He cast his eyes to his beloved 400, before stepping inside his house that he had lovingly deemed "The Shit Shack." He'd bought groceries that afternoon and didn't want the ice cream to melt any more in the sun.

He checked the outdoor temperature while hydrating a Food Pack and let out a huff. Nearing forty four degrees celsius. Nice and toasty.

Not wanting to waste the daylight, he grabbed his toolbox and stepped outside, shedding his thin thermal protection jacket and letting the red sun hit his bare skin. He went to work, popping the lid of the engine and reaching inside to those loose wires.

The problem was more complicated than he first thought. The engine had gained a lot of waste from the ion engine and mixing with the dust and thin atmosphere, so he went to the back of the house and got an oxygen tank, venting pure oxygen inside the engine to settle the waste. After waiting five minutes for the oxygen to escape and mix with the surrounding air, he wiped down the internal gears and vents with a non static cloth.

Then came the wiring. The internal carbon fibres to the hologram display were loose, so he tightened them the best he could, melting the ones that couldn't be tightened by hand to the internal hull.

Excitement and gratitude flowed though the mark. Keith felt it itch in joy and couldn't help but smile as his soulmate celebrated-

Celebrated whatever it was.

As night drew near, Keith reluctantly put his thermal coat back on for fear of the cold nights. He didn't mind being roasted to the core, he did grow up in New Houston right near the worst of the prominence , but it was the cold he feared. Cold winds didn't warm you up.

Finally he fixed the internal wiring, replaced and cleaned the valve, and checked on the tiny pellet of uranium that powered his bike in the first place.

No ruptures. That's good. He knew a guy who ignored a crack in his bike's pellet and blew his ass up in the middle of space.

Lost an arm from it too.

Keith tried not to think about that too much.

Tightening his thermal around his chest, he rushed inside before the worst of the cold could get to him. Putting the heaters on full blast up to a toasty twenty seven degrees, he threw his clothes in the basket of soiled clothing. Keith crinkled his nose. He'll have to do laundry soon.

Soulmark. Yeah. Keith pressed two fingers to the yellow star and sent a wave of affection and pride. He wasn't sure what his soulmate did, you only get emotions and such after all, but damnit he was proud. Especially with the anxiety they've been suffering from recently.

Maybe whatever was causing it finally lessened?

He slung himself over the couch, kicking off his shoes and pants and clicked on the TV, wrapping himself in that red woven wool from Earth.

As characters from a rerun of late 2560's shows danced on the screen, he closed his eyes and let all of the emotions wash over him from today, careful not to touch his soulmark to alarm them.

He needed a friend, someone closer than his coworkers at the repair shop. He wanted his soulmate with him so badly it hurt. He'd been on his own since eleven when those damn terrarians blew up his military parents. Before then it was the same thing. Move every year. Take a different way home every day. Don't make patterns. Don't make close friends. Never leave home without the basic essentials and a weapon in case we get blown up.

They got blown up. Keith ran from New Houston. Moved town every year. Don't make friends.

Just recently, at twenty one, did he realize that his parents were nut jobs. He had a soulmark, he was destined to be with someone and settle down, maybe have some kids or like, five dogs.

Damn military.

He caught sight of the thin scars on his legs.

Damn parents.

* * *

His shift started at two pm this day. Keith left at twelve, basket of dusty laundry in the storage compartment of his 400.

Halfway through town a fluffy red thing ran in front of him, out of the weeds growing on the side of the road. Keith swerved to avoid it, turning back to get a good look at the thing that he'd almost killed.

A rusty red cat with yellow eyes stared back, almost as if Keith almost didn't kill the strange thing. It panted lightly, likely from lack of water, and padded across the ground towards him.

That's when Keith noticed it didn't have any thermal protection. Not even little boots like Pidge's dog.

Poor thing, he thought. He took his phone out of his pocket and aimed the camera at the cat, looking for an identification chip. None popped up.

"Here, kitty kitty kitty." He catcalled, sliding off the bike and lowering his body to the ground. "You want to go inside with me? It'll be cold, and I can give you some socks. They'll be big, but you won't burn your paws. I could feed you too."

The cat regarded him, and slowly swaggered towards him in that lazy way that only cats can put off. He rubbed his head against Keith's arm, purring wildly.

Keith picked the tomcat up, surprised at how calm the cat was. He'd had a cat once, and it had hated him. He turned the cat over to inspect his paws, and hissed when he saw the swollen and cracked pads.

"Shit, man. You've had it rough." Keith commented. The cat only purred louder. Keith one handedly started the bike up again, carefully driving the half kilometer to the laundromat. The cat curled up in the small space between his lap and the hologram displays, seeming content riding along at sixty kilometers an hour.

He couldn't just leave the cat there. So he brought him inside, placing him on top of the warm dryers. The cat stayed put, only meowing when Keith went back outside to get his laundry.

He threw in half a Ruble and didn't even bother to sort the clothing, letting it all wash into one faded color eventually. While the cycle was going the cat jumped down, landing on Keith's shoulders and letting out a little "Pbbrt?"

Oh yeah. Cats need water. He took out the shallow cup from his side pack and poured some water in it, placing the cup on the ground.

"Drink up, kitty." He placed the cat on the ground. The cat lapped at the water.

Once his laundry was done he folded it up and went up front for some rubber bands. When he came back the cat had drunk every last drop of the water and had sat on the warm laundry, getting dust and red cat fur all over his favorite shirt.

Keith just laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

Running back to the Shit Shack meant he was cutting it close to being late, but he could always stay for an extra half hour. He dusted off the cat, turned on the climate control to heat the shack to a cool twenty degrees, and left some water out. An old cardboard box filled with dirt became a litterbox in the bathroom. The cat thanked him by dropping a huge shit right in front of him, meowing happily.

"Thanks, asshole." The cat still had no name, so Keith would have to think about one during work hours. "I'll pick you up some burn cream for ya lil toe beans too, right? I'll be back at six."

Keith didn't know why he was talking to this cat like it could understand him, but then again he was a man in his twenties living off of race money, fixing engines, and reruns of sixties TV shows. If he has a cat now, he'll treat him like a human being.

Not like a terrarian, though. Those guys need to back the fuck off.

The cat gave him a slow blink as Keith left the house, jumping on the couch and curling up in a ball.

* * *

"Pronouns?" Keith asked as he marked the time on his card.

"They/them today. You're late." Pidge teased. "The Coranic saw you in the laundromat with a cat. Late because you found a furry friend?"

"Yeah. New cat. Don't tell Sefram? I'm pretty sure they'll set their snakes on me."

"Sefram's cool if you told 'em you got a cat." Pidge waved their hand. "Also, they saved a Pastra 700xx for you."

"A what! " Keith gasped. "But those just came out on the market and are like, a billion Rubles!"

"I know!" Pidge grinned. "Some hot shot Earth guy came by and dropped it off. Said he'll be racing tonight?"

"Earth? Great." Keith groaned. "Probably full of bacteria. Is it decontaminated?"

"Yeah. Hunk did it earlier."

Keith felt a shot of adrenaline shoot through his bloodstream at the mention of the hot guy. "Hunk got the job?"

Pidge narrowed their eyes. "Yeah. Why you got that tone, and increasing heart rate?"

"Damn your cyborg tech, my heart is private ." Keith rolled his eyes. "I want to get my hands on that Pastra."

"No distractions!" Pidge yelled after him.

"Ешьте мой весь мудак!" he yelled back.

"Well, fuck you too!"

The Pastra 700xx was beautiful. The owner must have dropped it in for minor repairs they probably could have fixed themself but likely just wanted to show off.

It was sleek, an egg shaped cockpit with life support, up to eight atmospheres of pressure, barely a scratch or dent, and the ion engine was self cleaning. Cleaning the waste normally took half the job.

But when he popped the hood, the problem was clear. Two carbonfiber wires were completely burnt out, causing the engine to go into radious mode, which had ruptured a lot of the internal hardware. Keith had the same problem with his 400.

He went to work, threading new carbonfibers into the engine and adding his own flair, twisting the wires into a spiral so the heat wouldn't radiate into the water reclaimer. That was a flaw he noticed on the 700xx plans he had downloaded, and had fixed the problem without much thought.

Hope this Earth guy appreciates it. He mentally mumbled. He never trusted those assholes from Earth with their body modifications and an air that they were the pure humans.

Then, a soft knock on his wall. He looked up from the engine, wrench in his mouth and pliers behind his ears, and almost dropped them both.

Hunk was standing in the shabby doorway, but looking way more comfortable than he had when Keith first met him. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal tattoos with amazing designs, glistening with sweat and face stained with grease and ion waste.

He was heavenly. Keith felt his heart race.

"Hey! You working on the Pastra?" He grinned. Goddamnit he even sounded better, like he was more at home and at ease.

Keith's soulmark itched. He grinned in response. "Yeah! Thanks for decontamin' it earlier. I didn't want to catch the flu or somethin'."

"No prob, man! You need some help?"

"Yeah. You wanna take a look at the internal wiring, make sure I didn't fuck anything up? Normally I get Shirogane to do it but he had to go to New Houston for an arm check."

"Sure." Hunk squatted by the low bearing engine, crinkling his cute little nose. "Did you curl the wire or did it come like that? I don't remember seeing that in the schematics."

Oh god he actually read the schematics. Keith was udderly doomed.

"Did it myself. A straight carbonfiber will disrupt the flow of the water reclaimer. With this it won't burn off the water so quickly, and will change the internal temperature to a more accurate readout."

"You're brilliant. What if you twist it around the engine though, to gain more power?" Hunk demonstrated with his thick hands around the circular pump, and that's when Keith saw it.

A red star, shining beautifully on his inner wrist, eerily similar to his own. Then his hand moved, dropping back to his side.

It had to be a coincidence.

"Yeah, that's even better! Also, I like your tats, man." Keith twisted the wire around the engine, making note of how his soulmark itched badly.

"Thanks! I got them when I visited my homeland on Earth. It's a traditional thing with polynesian folk? Either way I look badass."

"You so do though? You look like a warrior." Keith accidentally tapped two metal wires together and yelped at the sparks that caught his wrist.

"Oh, fuck! You alright-" Hunk grabbed Keith's wrist and an explosion of emotions flooded through him, tingling his toes and causing white spots to form behind his eyes. He gasped in confusion and excitement, and Hunk let go of his wrist.

"What the fuck was that?" Hunk breathed. His chest was heaving. Keith realized Hunk must have felt the same thing.

"Oh my goodness. Let me see your soulmark." Keith said nervously, letting a bit of his old New Houston accent drip into his voice. He kicked his leg up on the Pastra, rolling up the leg of his jeans to expose that yellow star that was tingling with sparks.

Hunk turned his inner wrist towards Keith's. "Oh-!"

The stars swelled and popped in sync, one red and the other a brilliant yellow, trickling emotions into each other no matter how far the distance. But now his soulmate was here, and so close they could touch, and the marks knew.

"It's you!" Keith exclaimed, kicking his leg off and bear hugging Hunk, who didn't even hesitate to hug back.

"It's you!" Hunk repeated, lifting Keith in the air. They were out in the hot desert sun and stank like sweat and grease and exhaust and smoke, but it was the best damn smell in the entire universe.

Hunk's arms were warm, and the happiness and excitement flooding though their marks was addictive. Keith never wanted to let go.


End file.
